


Save Me

by wednesdays__child



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays__child/pseuds/wednesdays__child
Summary: Angel comes to check on the Scoobies after Buffy's death. The reception he receives surprises him.





	Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> Set Post Season Five.
> 
> I actually wrote this a long time ago and just found it again. I spruced it up and decided to post it here.
> 
> Betaed by Dazeventura6.

They sat, stone-still, wrapped around each other like nothing else in the world mattered. They were barely covered, just a small blanket draped over them, not nearly enough to keep them warm but just enough to keep away the bite of the cool night air. He stopped far enough away that he could see them but they shouldn’t be able to tell he was watching. For several long minutes he stood there, still as death, simply staring at the two silent figures, until finally Xander called, “You can come out, Deadboy. We know you’re there.”

The tinkle of Willow’s giggle nearly pulled a smile out of him as he stepped closer. “How did you know I was here?” Angel asked.

“It was green,” Willow answered, the cheer quickly bleeding from her voice.

He waited until Xander explained, “Willow put a spell around us so we wouldn’t be disturbed by anything, not that anything has been creeping around lately. We’ve been kinda taking out our feelings on the local populace of baddies lately. But this little ball here?” He pointed to the small orb floating in front of them. “It’ll turn red when an undead or supernatural type comes along, green if it has a soul. It wasn’t Spike, so - you.”

“How did you know it wasn’t Spike?” he asked.

“He only comes here with Dawn,” Willow whispered.

“And Dawn only comes on Sundays,” Xander finished, his voice stronger, almost defiant. “He says he doesn’t need to come - doesn’t care or whatever. I think it’s all just bullshit.”

Angel waited for a rebuke that never came. Normally Willow would have reprimanded the boy for the curse, now she simply sat still in his arms, staring at the cold stone before them. It frightened Angel more than he cared to admit. Finally, she whispered, “You didn’t come.”

“Things were complicated,” he explained feebly. “We were really busy.”

Xander snorted loudly. “Like we weren’t busy here with Dawn who is really a magical key to untold horrors being hunted by a she-bitch hell-god and the aftermath of...everything.”

Angel smirked internal. He was glad that Xander couldn’t bring himself to say her name or why they were here either. “I know,” he said eventually. “I’m sorry.”

It was pathetic and paltry, but it was all he had to give these two after all they’d done, after all they’d gone through. 

“What was she like?” Willow asked softly, startling Angel out of dark thoughts. The question confused him and he shook his head, trying to understand.

“You know, you knew her so well and longer than I did and...”

“No,” Willow interrupted, finally pulling her eyes away from the darkness and looking up into his. “What was she like when you were together that once. You remember, don’t you?”

Of course he remembered. He remembered everything. Every gentle touch, every gasp, every exhale, every tentative touch. They were burned into him - into his very being. Willow’s eyes, normally so green, were so dark now they were nearly black. He told himself it was the grief or the low light of the night, but he knew it was need - a deep seated need that none of them could explain. She stared, her gaze piercing him to the very soul she had returned to him. Slowly he nodded.

“Show us.”

He took a step back, shocked at the idea, at the brashness of the demand, at the wrongness of it all.

“Here?” he asked.

Willow simply nodded, leaning back into the expanse of Xander’s arms, pressing her back into his chest as he held her close and lay back in the cool, damp grass.

It felt wrong, coming to them like this, here. Kneeling between Willow legs - _so thin, just like hers but without the strength, without the power_ \- he leaned forward, slowly brushing their lips together softly. Willow shivered, just like she had that night. But the lips weren’t right. They were too thin so he moved up, taking Xander’s instead. That was better - _fuller bottom lip, perfect for biting, opening up, yes, just there, taking his tongue in so perfectly_ \- but still not enough. Xander was kissing him back, needy and desperate, just like she had been, silently begging for more, for everything that fateful night.

He laid them out and stripped them down, heedless of the chill in air or the dew on the ground. All that mattered was the warmth of their flesh, so much like hers, Willow’s soft and smooth like her back and stomach, Xander’s rough and calloused like her hands and knees. By the time he slid inside Willow’s heat, he was sure he could hear her voice whispering his name in his ear and he moaned loudly remembering the last time he’d felt wetness and heat like that. He wrapped his hand around Xander’s cock, strong and hard like her muscles, pressing against Angel even as he gave in, surrendered just like she had.

He wanted to lose himself in Willow’s heat and softness but Xander’s lips and hardness grounded him and Angel remembered this wasn’t her and never would be. It would never be perfect again.

They came quietly - Willow first with a soft cry that nearly broke his heart, then Xander with a small whine in the back of his throat before he finally let himself go after pulling out of the warm haven he had found, spilling onto the cold wet grass. They laid there, the three of them, tangled together in their grief and their pain and their confusion for a long time. 

Silent. But not a single tear shed between them.

Finally, Xander stirred. “You only have about 90 minutes before sunrise, Deadboy. If you’re heading back to LA, you’d better make like a tree and get the fuck out of here.”

Willow giggled that sweet tinkle of a laugh as Angel groaned and sat up, slowly pulling on his clothes despite the damp stealing the heat that their bodies had provided. Once he was dressed, he turned to look at them. They were beautiful, the two of them, wrapped around each other once again, clinging to each other to keep from flying apart at the seams. What he’d done was wrong and as he opened his mouth to say so, Xander stopped him.

“If you’re going to apologize, save it. We’re actual adults now and are capable of making adulty type decisions. We all loved her in our own ways. At least now we know she had at least one moment of happiness of the normal type.I think we can live with that.”

He simply nodded, not knowing what else to do. He turned and began to walk away when Willow called out, “Angel? We’re here every Friday night.”

He turned, shocked at the simple statement, an obvious invitation, expecting to see them watching him. Instead, they were back to the same position he had found them in, Xander sitting with Willow resting between his legs, her back to his chest, wrapped around each other and the tiny blanket thrown over their shoulders, feebly fighting away the cold. They were facing the simple dark stone that read: **_Buffy Anne Summers - She saved the world a lot._**

Angel smiled softly, sadly. She _had_ saved the world. But now that she was gone, there was no one to save them from the void she’d left behind. He wondered how long it would take before the black hole left from her death would crush and destroy them all.

**END**


End file.
